Flight of Death
by Rameine
Summary: She was born with everything. He was born with nothing. But he's about to take everything he wants and more, and she might be the only one who could save him. But at what cost to herself? TROC.
1. Prologue

Title: Flight of Death  
Author: Susie Q  
Rating: PG-13/T  
Genre: Drama/Romance  
Pairing: Tom Riddle/OC; other canon pairings possible but not central  
Spoilers: Primarily CoS, HBP; some SS/PS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
Timeline: Pre-Hogwarts – post-Hogwarts (spans approx. 60 years)

Summary: She was born with everything. He was born with nothing. But he's about to take everything he wants and more, and she might be the only one who could save him. But at what cost to herself?

Disclaimer: The characters in this story from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, and any others holding ownership rights. Permission was not acquired to use them; no infringement intended. All original characters can be used with my permission only.

Foreword: I began this story before the release of _The Half-Blood Prince_, but only in concept. I ended up able to incorporate a good deal of the history revealed in the sixth book, but I'll be straying occasionally, so please let me take some creative liberties with Riddle and his past. The original draft of this story took a great many more creative liberties than this does—I think it follows the HBP timeline much more closely, as it was drafted and written after I'd read the book.

I should say here that I know that this plotline is no longer all that original (when I conceived it it wasn't nearly as popular as it now seems to be), but I am plunging ahead because it will absolutely not leave me alone. So the basic story isn't so original, but I have never found another story that even resembles this one, so I hope you readers who stick it out won't be disappointed with me. If so...reserve your rotten tomatoes for the end.

Important note (sorry, this thing just keeps getting longer): I should note that I have worked my own HBP theory into this story, which, in as few words as possible, is that Snape was working under Dumbledore's orders the entire time. It hasn't found great popularity back at home, but that's my story and I'm stickin' to it. I hope when you read it will be a little easier to understand, but if not, please say so in a review and I will try to explain a little more fully.

Just a warning: sections of this story will be largely OC-based. If this bothers you, the exit is right there on your browser's back button. Thank you for your time.

Dedicated to my friend and cyber-sister bobmcbobbob1.

Further notes posted at conclusion of story.

**IMPORTANT (7/21):** This update is only a repost of the prologue-chapter 2. Former readers, there's no real need to go back and read again, unless you want to nitpick. Any new readers, I welcome you! Chapter 3 is semi-complete and only requires some (rather extensive) editing...which is where all of you come in. I'm hoping not to have to repost it a million times: therefore I would very much appreciate it if you would take a look at a draft I have at my LiveJournal site. My deepest thanks to all of you for your patience, and especially to Wren for letting me know that some people still remember this story. :)

Sorry, guys, didn't know that FF.N didn't count replacements as updates. So I may seem kind of desperate deleting and re-uploading, but I'm going for broke with a total re-introduction here before I post chapter 3. I suppose if I don't get any responses on LJ it's going to have to be posted here and then continually re-uploaded as I fix it. Sorry again for the confusion.—Susie Q.

* * *

**FLIGHT OF DEATH**  
by Susie Q

**Prologue**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
June 1945_

The day was warm and bright, but Alexis Levine felt like she would never be warm or bright again. She strolled across the lush grounds of Hogwarts until she made it to the lake, where she looked across the gently rippling waters and finally dropped to the grass.

The end of the school year was usually a time of celebration for Alexis, but this year, all she could think about was how everything was going to change.

"I thought I might find you out here."

She looked up to see the familiar form of Tom Riddle standing over her, his robes whipping around him in the breeze. Normally she would have smiled, invited him to sit down—maybe done more than that—but today she wasn't in the mood to see him.

"Hello, Tom," she greeted distantly, turning away again almost immediately.

He sat down beside her. "Are you excited to be going home?"

"I suppose," she replied dully. Against her will, she turned to look at him, her eyes alight with some concern. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

Now Tom turned away. "Oh, I don't know. I'll go back to the orphanage one more time...get my things. Then I have a few jobs that I'm thinking of applying for."

"All in London, I suppose," she said, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"My first choice is actually rather remote," he said. "And unorthodox. For a first job, at least."

"Slughorn's fixing you up quite well then, isn't he?" she murmured wryly, pulling up a few blades of grass and rubbing them between her fingers.

"This wasn't Slughorn's idea," Tom said quietly. "Although you could say I was inspired by him."

Alexis looked sharply at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Now, let's not get our hopes up. It may all come to nothing," Tom answered evasively. "What about you? I suppose you'll have to start fighting off all your various admirers now that I'm going."

She shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Moving on that quickly, are we?"

She whipped around, her gaze fierce. "_No,_" she responded. "Though I'm not sure I can say the same for you," she couldn't resist adding.

"Me?" he laughed. "I'm concentrating on my life now, Alexis. I don't think I'll ever have time to find someone as exquisite as you."

Alexis would have thanked him, but she got the distinct feeling that his comment was not intended as a compliment, so she kept her lips firmly shut and instead looked back at the lake.

"It's very pretty this time of year," she commented, her voice strangely high-pitched. "It's so nice to come out here and just look." He made no comment, and at last she felt as if her chest might burst if she didn't act. Summoning all her courage, she kept her eyes forward and asked, "Tom...do you want to marry me?"

There was no answer, but she felt the presence next to her grow imperceptibly colder.

"I may never see you again after this year," she went on determinedly, though inside she could feel all her courage slowly slipping away. "If—if my parents knew—or acknowledged anyway—then we could...then I would be allowed to see you."

He stared at her, and she hung her head, already wishing she hadn't said anything.

"I don't think I would be very well-received by your parents," he said quietly.

Alexis relaxed. "Is that what this is about?" she asked in a rush of relief. "Tom, that's nothing—anyone who knows you has to see that you come from decent lineage, the orphanage be damned. You were a prefect, you were _Head Boy_, for the love of Merlin!"

"Yes, but what does that prove?" he snapped. "That I'm talented with magic? So what? This bloody school has no discretion anymore—they'll let any Mudblood be Head, so long as they're clever with a wand."

"So you don't want to get married because _you_ think you're not good enough?" she demanded, getting to her feet and glaring down at him furiously for the few seconds' advantage she had before he stood up as well and she had to look up again. "Shouldn't that be for me to decide?"

"Well, I think something like marriage should be a mutual decision, don't you agree?" he replied in so flippant a manner she nearly slapped him. She felt hot tears of anger prick at the backs of her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall.

"Then you're content to just ride off into the sunset and never see each other again?" she pressed, her voice rising.

He stared calmly but coldly at her. She could feel the power of that gaze on her, she knew it well. She'd done it this time...those eyes said everything his facial expression didn't.

"I'm seventeen years old," he began. "You're sixteen. I hardly think now is the time to begin thinking of matrimony. You're using it as a way to avoid a separation that may well be for the best. You can't see what the future holds for either of us."

She stared at him. "You just don't want to marry me," she accused, her tone now as soft as his.

"If you'd have it that way, then no," he shot back, all warmth gone from his voice. "And to be frank, I'm not sure you want to marry me either. This isn't about getting me, it's about getting your own way. I'm just like one more hat you saw in a shop that you wanted, only it turns out in this case maybe the hat doesn't want you."

At these words, Alexis whirled on the spot and strode back to the castle, her posture perfect thanks to her mother's training. She half expected to hear Tom chasing after her, if only to make his verbal evisceration complete. But she should have known better.

Tom Riddle never had to chase anyone.

* * *

Author's Notes: I debated for a long time about posting this as a WIP (as you'll read below). What I finally decided to do was post this prologue and chapter one to see what kinds of responses I got, and that will determine whether I continue posting as I write, or I go with my original plan and not post till it's done. Now on to my original notes...

I swore to myself I would never post another WIP after my first attempt at fanfic which took just over two years to write, but guess what? I can't help myself. This story has, like that fic before it, become my baby and my obsession, along with my original fic (I HATE having two major WIPs at once, but there it is), and so here it is...I'm doing what I said I'd never do again: I'm posting a work-in-progress. Warning to all who have made it this far (thank you, by the way): I DO NOT WRITE QUICKLY. My updates will be patchy. I go on little tangents where it all just sort of pours out of me, and then really dry spells where I'll disappear off the face of the planet. BUT I WILL FINISH. Check my bio for updates. I have two more chapters done right now, and I am going to post chapter one with this prologue, since I feel this is too short to be counted as a real chapter.

Sorry this is so short, but it is a prologue, and prologues are the only parts I do not put size limits on (I am a stickler for long chapters in my stories). Next chapter will have some meat to it, I promise. Hang in there for the beginning...it'll pick up.

Please read and review...no flames.

Thank you to EVERYONE who's made it down to the bottom (!) for giving this tired old rag a chance. It's not as clichИ as it sounds right now...I promise.

—Susie Q


	2. Chapter 1: Chasing Dreams

See part one for disclaimer, etc.

* * *

**FLIGHT OF DEATH**  
by Susie Q

**Part I**  
Tom Riddle  
**Chapter 1**  
_Chasing Dreams_

_London, England  
One year later_

The Levine house was decked out in all its splendor for the graduation of Alexis Levine, the sole heir to the Levine fortune. On that day, Alexis moved among the crowd with all the poise and elegance of a well-brought-up young woman, smiling and making idle conversation with the guests. And it was quite a grand guest list, comprised of only the old and notable wizarding families, particularly, she knew, those who had sons of a suitable age. Perhaps she would once have felt angry at being offered up so tactlessly, but she found it rather amusing now, playing with each of the various prospects, like a game which she would win any way she moved. She held the trump card, after all—she was rich, young, and beautiful; her father was well-known and well-respected among the best circles of old wizarding societies, so who wouldn't want her for a wife? She could have her pick, and anyone who wasn't rich enough or important enough she could throw away as he had thrown her away so long ago.

She found she enjoyed herself, all things considered. Flirting had never been a part of her nature at Hogwarts—she'd never had to work to attract any man, discounting Tom, but now, although that had not changed, she had begun to like perfecting the art.

She knew her parents liked Magnus Lestrange in particular for her, but he was dull...and ugly...and truth be told a bit too old for her tastes. She _did_ have her eye on a handsome young man by the name of Jonathan Harper, however. He'd already saved her from Magnus twice throughout the evening, which constituted as heroism for her, and as she was chatting with two of her friends from Hogwarts, he approached her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"You've hired an exceptional orchestra, Miss Levine," he commented, and she bowed her head in assent.

"Father looked for quite a long time, I understand."

"Then would you like to take advantage of their fine work and dance with me?" He held out his hand, and Alexis heard her friends giggle behind her.

She smiled at him—not too broadly, but with a touch more than the usual friendliness. "I'd be honored, Mr. Harper."

He swept her off around the room, and she whirled in giddy, dizzying circles with him. Although she liked to think of herself as being coquettish and worldly, she was really still hopelessly naОve in many ways, and while she was busy enjoying the heady sensation of dancing with a handsome and charming partner, he was equally preoccupied with the flush that had risen to her cheeks and the sparkle that had appeared in her eyes. She'd make a very proper wife. He might even enjoy married life, at this rate.

"You two looked so nice together," Gabriella Rhyse sighed, only looking slightly envious. "He's perfect, Alexis. You should catch him while you can. While he's still available!"

The others laughed in agreement.

Alexis raised her glass of champagne to them all. "For your advice," she said, "and may you all be as lucky as I've been."

"Never!" Elena Duval exclaimed. "First Riddle, now Harper—you seem to be a _magnet_ for the gems, Alexis. We'll all have to watch our husbands around you." She smiled teasingly, but Alexis didn't return her smile.

"Come with me and get something to eat," Gabriella declared firmly. "These little cakes your mother ordered have been taunting me all evening." As she dragged Alexis away from the group, she lowered her voice and said, "Are you okay?"

Alexis blinked and looked at her coolly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I know you don't like to talk about—"

"About what?"

Gabriella hesitated.

"About—_him_."

Alexis looked at her friend imperiously. "Why would I mind?" she asked, her voice cold and detached. "Really, Gabriella, I don't know where you'd get such an idea."

"But I know that you—"

"Oh, look, Mother got your favorite little pastries." Alexis swished away to the refreshment table, and Gabriella had no choice but to trail reluctantly along behind her, though she was by no means satisfied.

They were munching on pastries and making idle banter when Jonathan Harper reappeared.

"Miss Levine." He smiled at her.

"Mr. Harper. How nice to see you again." She laughed.

"I was just thinking that this was one of my favorite songs and what a shame it would be to waste it." He offered her his arm.

Alexis opened her mouth uncertainly and glanced at Gabriella, who lifted her eyes skyward as if to say, _Don't be stupid,_ and nodded significantly toward the dance floor.

"If you keep this up, Mr. Harper, people are going to get the wrong idea about us." She smiled at him.

She expected him to say something like _And what idea is that?_ keeping up the light conversation, but instead he put his arm around her and only answered with a mysterious grin, "You never know. Maybe I'd prefer they did."

Elena walked over to Gabriella, who was still standing by the table but seemed to have forgotten about her pastry altogether.

"They look so nice, don't they?" she said, but she didn't sound overly happy. "Really just makes you want to go and blast her whole precious hat collection so she won't have everything, doesn't it?"

Gabriella smiled distantly and threw the pastry in the garbage.

* * *

Alexis was lounging in the sitting room several days later, one arm resting casually on the back of the sofa, her lithe form draped across it as she read a book. Just as Mr. Darcy was about to propose, there was a commotion in the front hall, and, with an annoyed groan, she dropped her book onto the table and went out to see what was happening.

"...someone of consequence, I should think," her father's voice was saying in its annoyed tone. "Good enough for Mr. Burke to come and see me in person, I should think."

"Mr. Burke rarely makes calls personally, sir. It's nothing against you."

Alexis had been about to go back into the sitting room to get her book so she could search out a quieter nook of the house—nothing interesting to listen to there, just dull business talk—but she stopped in her tracks when she heard the second voice. She would know that voice anywhere.

Against her better judgment, her hand trembling slightly, she went to the parlor and peered in.

Her father was sitting, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his lap in his characteristic annoyed posture. Alexis might have giggled at how pompous he looked, but the sight of the young man sitting across from him melted her grin at once and swept away any remnants of amusement she might have been feeling.

He was slightly thinner than when she'd last seen him, she noted with a frown. His hair was longer, and he was wearing this shabby suit that only suited a—well, whatever he was. But he still looked as handsome as ever, maybe even more so, as if her memory had failed her, and she wanted to flee right then, but her feet suddenly seemed to be made of lead.

"We seem to have an eavesdropper," Tom said suddenly, rising to his feet.

_Damn._ She had never been able to fool him.

Surprised, her father turned as well, and frowned for the briefest of instances when he found her listening in on his business conversations, before he smiled warmly and rose as well. "Alexis, there you are. I was wondering where you'd disappeared to. Riddle, this is my daughter, Alexis; Alexis, this is Tom Riddle from Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley."

"Miss Levine." There wasn't a trace of recognition in Tom's voice or her father's face. Had her mother been here, Alexis knew, she would have recognized the name. But her father had never remembered—never cared. As long as her marks were good in school, he had his own plans for her afterwards. Her mother had been the one who had listened to her talk about her new friends, who had guided her in making friends, told her which families were the best and which friends she would be better off not having. She had not been extremely pleased to hear about Tom, Alexis remembered, but that had been one of the rare times when Alexis had gone against her mother's advice and continued seeing him anyway. She had hoped that once he graduated they would be able to see what sort of a family he came from—but that was when she had assumed he would go on to do something meaningful and important. From the state of his robes at the moment, his Award for Special Services was probably worth more than his yearly salary. Assuming they paid him a salary, of course. Good Merlin, what if he got paid commission only?

No wonder he was here at her father's.

"Alexis, perhaps you'll be able to convince Mr. Riddle that Great-aunt Rosamunde's necklace is worth at least a thousand Galleons. It's the finest quality, and you know there's that old curse the woman put on it."

"I'll have to discuss negotiations with Mr. Burke," Tom replied.

"Well, then, you tell Mr. Burke I'm asking for a thousand."

Tom nodded politely. "Yes, sir." He turned to Alexis. "Miss Levine." It was the only thing he'd said to her the entire time.

"I'll see you out," she volunteered instantly.

It was only a few feet from the parlor to the front door, but it was long enough for the silence to become awkward. At the entrance, Alexis stopped and forced a bright smile. "Well, then! I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"I doubt it," he answered, still giving no sign he remembered her. "These negotiations with Mr. Burke will probably take at least two days, but I really don't expect to be back till Friday." Before she quite knew what he was doing, he scooped up her hand and lightly brushed his lips across the backs of her knuckles. "Until we meet again...Alexis."

And then he was gone.

She stood in stunned silence for several minutes or hours; it could have been either. When she finally realized what had just happened, she wanted to snatch the door open and run out after him, just so she could shake him and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. She was furious, but not necessarily at him. She was angry she'd let him get to her again so easily.

She threw herself back onto the couch in the sitting room, but not even Jane Austen could provide any diversion after that, and at last she gave up, got her hat and her bag, and went to the fireplace. Glancing furtively into the hall to be sure no one was there, she prodded a small fire to life, grabbed some of the green powder from its place on the mantel, and tossed it on.

"Knockturn Alley!"

There was a rush and she was swept away, and a moment later she was standing in the fireplace of a small, dingy-looking shop that was nothing like the lavish, immaculately-kept ones she was used to visiting on Elmar Alley. Bracing herself, Alexis stepped out, brushed off her robes, and looked around for some sign of life.

"Can I help you?" A wizened old man came out and looked her over with some interest.

"Oh—no, thanks. I mean—well—I'm looking for Borgin and Burkes."

"This is the place." He moved a step closer, eyeing her ring. "I'm Mr. Burke. Something I can do for you, Miss...?"

"Levine," she supplied almost automatically, before she could think better about the wisdom of handing her name out to a total stranger, especially one who owned a shop in Knockturn Alley. "I was just, I just was looking for someone who worked here...but I see he's out at the moment, so I'll be going, then. Sorry to have bothered you."

She wasn't even going to try to go the way she'd come. She didn't want to spend a minute longer in that horrid place, she just wanted out. Grabbing the handle, she fled from the shop and very quickly found that she was completely lost in one of the worst places in wizarding London.

Not wanting Mr. Burke to see—for she knew he was still watching her keenly through the window—she took off confidently in no particular direction, hoping she would eventually be led to some exit, or some familiar landmark. Oh, she was going to be in so much trouble when she got home!

She had walked and walked, but it felt like the damn alley had no end. Finally, resigned, she started to slowly make her way back, looking at all the faces and shops in hopes of finding someone who looked approachable enough to ask for directions.

"Alexis?"

The sound of anyone in this blasted alley calling her name caused her to gasp and whirl around, stumbling rather ungracefully.

Tom was eyeing her with genuine surprise, a few boxes tucked under his arm. "What are you doing down here?" he demanded.

"I—" Oh, bloody hell. Now it all sounded so stupid. _I came to find you, sweetie pie!_ Ugh. "I was just...um...looking."

He stared.

"You know...all the Dark magic they have down here...it's really, um...it's really quite...fascinating," she babbled on, feeling more stupid by the second. _Just shut up. You know he doesn't believe you anyway._ "I thought maybe while I was here I could talk Mr. Burke into giving my father some more for that necklace," she added, her voice gaining some confidence now. "But it didn't go—"

"I told you Mr. Burke and I would have to discuss it." His voice had gone cold. "So you can save yourself the trouble of inventing any more stories, although I must say they are fascinating. I have to drop these off, and then I'll take you home."

"I can take myself, thank you," she snapped, hurt.

He laughed, really laughed at that. She enjoyed it for just a second—the sound of his genuine laughter was so rare—but then the realization that it was directed at her turned the beginnings of her smile into an annoyed grimace. "What's so funny?"

"You are." He was still chuckling a bit. "You couldn't get out of here if someone gave you a map with the way marked in red, Alexis Levine. Just be glad you'll always have someone else there to escort you around. You don't need to go trying to prove anything to anyone by going off on these rebellious I-can-do-it-alone bits."

She sulked all the way back to the shop and flatly refused to go in. Instead, she stood outside and watched through the window as Tom dropped off the packages and he and Mr. Burke apparently had a good laugh over how stupid little Miss Levine was, couldn't even get around their horrible alley without—

_An escort._

What exactly had Tom meant by "you'll always have someone to escort you around"?

He couldn't possibly...

She was standing in thoughtful contemplation when he returned, a small grin still evident, and said, "Shall we go?"

"Of course," she answered distractedly, her thoughts still whirling like mad.

Tom had never felt the same way for her as she did for him at Hogwarts, she had known that all along...her friends had thought she was mad to continue the whole affair, that it was only going to end badly for her...and hadn't they been right, she thought. He hadn't loved her as much as she had loved him, perhaps, but there was always something in her that had hoped beyond hope that he did at least love her, although he never said it.

Now, a year later, was it possible that he could miss her? Regret what he'd done? Even—maybe—want her back?

But if that was so...did she want him now?

_Of course you do, you daft idiot!_ some voice in the back of her mind shouted. But a stronger, more rational one was reminding her of Jonathan, and financial security, and the home and family she could have with him. As it stood, Tom had practically nothing...And it wasn't as if Jonathan was so bad...She grinned. The other night at her graduation party hadn't exactly been unpleasant.

"What are you smiling about?" Tom's voice cut into her reverie, sending the soft music and the ballroom and Jonathan Harper spinning away.

"Nothing."

He eyed her. She knew that look well—it was when he knew she was lying to him and he was trying to figure out just what the truth was. But she kept her face blank. Then again, why should she hide the truth? After everything he'd done, maybe it was time for a little retribution.

"I was thinking about my party the other night."

He waited.

"There were tons of flowers. All of my friends."

"Of course." His voice was almost sincere, but there was just a touch of acidic sarcasm in it which she chose to ignore.

"And there was this really delightful young man named Jonathan Harper; he works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"A Ministry drone." Tom shrugged him off. "Very nice work, Miss Levine. I expect he'll bore you fantastically."

"He's not _boring,_" Alexis snapped, almost more hurt by the ease with which Tom had dismissed Jonathan than by the insult to him. "He's actually very nice to talk to."

"Good. I hope so. I'd ask for an invitation to the wedding, but"—he smirked mysteriously—"I don't think I'm going to be here that far from now."

"Where are you going?" she couldn't help asking.

"Oh, I don't know, all over," he replied vaguely.

"Why?" For some reason she had begun to feel a little panicked.

Another shrug. "Just study a bit more. Other things, not quite-so-scholarly things," he added as she opened her mouth again. "Not Hogwarts-approved material." Those words were cynical. "But maybe you'll still see me in the news here and there," he added mysteriously as they arrived at her door.

"When are you leaving?" She felt a little desperate, knowing this might be the last time she ever got to speak to him like this.

"Whenever I feel like it." His tone was indifferent. "I'll wait for my next payday, probably, and then go. Don't worry about it," he added. "You have far too many friends and parties and Jonathan Harpers to occupy your time."

Then without another word, without even a goodbye, he turned and left her there on her doorstep.

* * *

Alexis waited in the sitting room eery morning for the next few days with her book, half an ear on the sounds in the hall outside.

_What do you think you're going to do when he does come?_ she thought, a little disgusted with herself, even as she craned her neck to make sure her father was alone. _If you try to spy again it's just going to be a repeat of the last time._

He had said he'd be back on Friday, but Friday came and went without bringing any sign of Tom Riddle. Monday likewise. By Tuesday, Alexis was starting to feel incredibly stupid and also incredibly bored. Sitting around all morning and waiting for someone who didn't know or care whether she existed was not only depressing, it was also killing her social life. Gabriella, Elena, and Suzie Black had been over to see if she was sick. She had sent them all away with smiles and false excuses of headaches or any other excuse that seemed appropriate at the time, with thanks for their concern.

But at last, on Tuesday afternoon, she heard the familiar sound of Tom's voice in the entryway. It took all her willpower to keep from leaping up and going out there, but she managed to keep her seat until she heard the voices fade and was sure they were safely in the parlor. Then, not really sure what she was going to do, she went out into the hall and stopped just short of where anyone could see her in the parlor.

_What am I doing?_ she wondered. _This is ridiculous. He's not here to see you._ She started back to the sitting room and stopped in the doorway. For several minutes she paced betwen the two rooms in miserable indecision, and this was how Olivia Levine found her daughter when she came downstairs.

"Alexis? What on earth are you doing?"

Alexis started guiltily and looked at her feet. "I—I was just—nothing."

"I was just going to go out for a bit. I saw this absolutely gorgeous new set of robes that I thought I could wear to the Maddoxes' party this year. Why don't you come and look with me, they had this new little thing in there that I think would look nice on you..."

Helplessly, with one last furtive glance into the parlor, where she could still see Tom and her father, Alexis followed her mother into the fireplace and was swept off into Elmar Alley again. As always, shopping with her mother was a wearying thing; Alexis never understood how something she normally enjoyed so much could be turned into such a chore by one woman, but Olivia seemed very adept at it. She twittered and fluttered here and there, always flying off to look at the silliest things. She was always taken in by the smiling salesmen, who instantly pinpointed her as a fountain of wealth. Now, Alexis admitted that she may not be able to get herself out of Knockturn Alley, but she knew, after seventeen years of practice, how to shop well.

"Mother, it can't even be worth half that much; don't you dare listen to that man—"

"Oh, psh. Hand me my purse, darling, this outfit is well worth it; I'd pay twice as much to get this exact shade, and look at the cut here on the neckline. It's all the rage now, you know."

"Mother."

"Don't you 'Mother' me, young lady. Now come on, let's get home."

They headed out of the shop with just six packages that day, four for her mother and two for Alexis.

"This one will look so nice on you at the party," Olivia had insisted. "And blue is Ormand Maddox's favorite color."

"Oh, Mother, don't go off on that one again. Ormand and I are not—"

"Although I must say," Olivia continued, with a knowing smile, "you and Mr. Harper looked extremely nice dancing together the other night at your party. Every time."

Alexis rolled her eyes, but she couldn't repress a small smile. "Thank you. I like him."

"I spoke with his mother. They're a nice family." "Nice" meaning "good," Alexis translated. "She told me he works at the Ministry."

"Yes, but we didn't really talk about his work that much."

"Well, I can't say I blame you on that one, dear," Olivia smiled as they returned. "Trixie! Trixie! Where is that house-elf; she's never around when you need her..."

"Here, Mistress." The house-elf appeared at once with a bow. "Mistress called?"

"Yes, Trixie, take these four boxes to my room and these two to Miss Levine's." It didn't seem possible that the little creature could balance so many packages, but she made it somehow, and while Olivia instantly made for the staircase, Alexis hesitated and tried to peek into the parlor.

"What are you doing?" Olivia asked sharply.

"Nothing." Alexis hurried to catch up with her mother.

They were walking down the hallway when her father came out of his study, and Alexis felt her heart sink.

"One thousand Galleons," he said, smiling broadly. "The old relic's necklace is finally gone, Olivia. We don't have to worry about any more of those blasted curses she put on it, and old Burke paid up tolerably, I'd say."

"So Tom's gone, then?" Alexis blurted before she could think better of it. Immediately she wished she could recall her words as she felt her mother's gaze bore into the back of her head, but Olivia was silent as her husband answered.

"Riddle? Oh, yes, he's long gone. Cleared everything up right quick. Fine young man. He'll go far in this world, you mark my words. Great pity he's not from any decent family...fine young man indeed..."

"Yes, well." Olivia pushed her daughter forward a few feet. "We were just going to go and try on a few new dresses for the Maddoxes' party."

They continued to Alexis's room, where Trixie had left the two boxes on the bed. Olivia shut the door and instantly pounced on her daughter with, "You didn't tell me you were seeing Tom Riddle again."

"I'm not," Alexis answered shortly, unwrapping the first set of robes. They were lighter summer robes, pale blue and slightly shorter than her school ones had been and more stylishly cut. All the Hogwarts robes had been tailored to a specific, regulated pattern; these were much freer and definitely not so drab.

"I thought all that was over last year," Olivia persisted.

"It is over," Alexis answered, trying to sound confident. "He was just here seeing Father about some business. He's a shoddy salesman, as far as I can tell."

But Olivia still didn't seem consoled. "Alexis, you know I didn't like you seeing him in school."

"I know, Mother. But I'm not in school now, and I'm not seeing him. So there's no problem."

"Alexis, you aren't going to throw away all of these opportunities your father and I have worked so hard to give you on some irresponsible fling. I won't let you."

Alexis felt a retort rise on hearing that—by "opportunities" her mother naturally meant all those young men gathered around the house a few days ago—but then stopped and thought, _Why bother?_ Getting into an argument with her mother was not going to solve anything. And Tom had made it pretty clear that he wasn't back at her house for her—he was taking off just as soon as he collected his next paycheck.

"It's nothing, really, Mother," she tried to console. "I saw him downstairs and thought I should be polite and say hello to him because of our past at Hogwarts." She held her breath, and after a few moments of suspicious looks, Olivia relented.

"Well, that was nice of you, of course, but don't think that you need to extend any particular courtesies to him now. Besides, you'd only be interrupting your father. I'm sure," she added with a little laugh, "that Mr. Riddle will get over you soon enough."

_Yes, I'm sure he will,_ she thought cynically.

* * *

Author▓s Notes: I do not own _Pride and Prejudice_ in any of its forms, to which I refer here.

This is a repost of an earlier version of chapter one, which I changed when I realized how terrible my transition to chapter two was. Setting out to improve it, I conceived this scene (apres prologue/ch. 1 posting), stuck it on to the beginning of chapter two, and then said to myself, _Why am I putting this here?_ It really belonged here, at the end of chapter one, so I moved it, but that required a repost of a chapter I had just posted and a big note (I hate reposting things, I've decided). So I'm sorry for any confusion this has caused.

This was ONCE one of the shortest chapters I'd ever written...then suddenly I had to write another scene and boom, it was up to standard-length. It's also the FOURTH major rewrite of this chapter I did, so maybe by now I'm just burnt out, but I was determined it be good, and I am finally satisfied with this one. ;P

As of the time these author's notes are being written, I also have chapter two done, but I'm holding off on posting because a) I gotta save a little for when I have those aforementioned dry spells, and b) I'd like to see how the prologue and chapter one are received. If I need to change things I will do so (that includes chapters already posted, in which case I will note that on my bio and in the next chapter).

As always, review constructively. Thanks—Susie Q.


	3. Chapter 2: Business and Pleasure

See part one for disclaimer, etc.

**IMPORTANT (7/25):** I'm so sorry, guys; I don't know what happened the last time I uploaded this chapter. The end of it was cut off, so new readers—there's just one little scene at the end. Updates are always on my bio.

* * *

**FLIGHT OF DEATH**  
by Susie Q

**Part I**  
Tom Riddle  
**Chapter 2**  
_Business and Pleasure_

_London, England  
July 1947_

"We were thinking maybe a December wedding," Gabriella said. "Edward got Emyl Park for the ceremony."

"That's a lovely one," Alexis said, but she wasn't really paying attention. Her mind was still on the visit Jonathan had paid yesterday.

"Do you think I should go with dark red bridesmaids, or is that too clichИ? I mean, a little too much holiday spirit?"

"Mm." Alexis waved her hand vaguely. "Whatever you like."

Gabriella frowned. "Good morning, Alexis. Are you here today?"

"Hm? What?" Alexis blinked and smiled at her friend. "I'm here. The park. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "I can see how much good it'll be talking to you today. That's okay, I know how it is."

"How what is?"

"You know." She raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Being in love."

"I'm not—" Alexis started to protest. But then she had to stop and consider.

"Ah, well, maybe it's just the money, then," Gabriella said, shrugging. "Lord knows Edward's no great dish to look at. But the pay's right. And I don't think Jonathan's so bad, you know. If I weren't getting married, I'd be happy to take him off your hands."

Alexis smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't think Jonathan's going anywhere anytime soon."

Gabriella perked up. "What does that mean?" She looked suspiciously at Alexis's left hand. "We're not going to be planning a double wedding, are we?"

Alexis laughed. "No, nothing like that."

"Well, maybe soon." She sighed and checked her watch. "Ooh, I'm late! I told Mother I'd meet her for a fitting this afternoon at one o'clock in Twillfit and Tatting's—"

"Do you want to use our fireplace?" Alexis volunteered instantly, rising.

"Thank you. I'm not quite sure I'm up for a walk like that in these shoes..." She giggled.

When the flames had swallowed Gabriella up, Alexis began to wander slowly through the house, lost.

"How d'you like that?" Her father's voice floated out of his study. "Americans. Never did have any grasp of security."

Alexis poked her head around the door.

"Look at this," her father called, holding out the paper. "Some little country town in America's been caught with a branch of their Unnamed Department. They were conducting all these experiments with some new spells, I guess—the Muggles are in a right state, I'll tell you; they're crying 'aliens' all over the place."

"Aliens?" Alexis was shocked.

"Yes, well, I guess that department hovers and travels every so often so it's harder to locate and so that it can transport products more easily. But it crashed for some reason—weak enchantments, that'll be—and then the Muggles found it and all their samples and decided there were aliens in there."

"No wizards were captured, were they?" Alexs gasped.

"No, of course not, stupid girl. But the Americans have been working full-time on memory modification, I'll bet you that." He shook his head. "What a fiasco. President Breneman's got his hands full. I don't envy that man."

"That's too bad," Alexis commented vaguely. But she had never had a head for news or politics, so with another small sympathetic noise, she had headed for her room and promptly forgotten the entire affair.

Until several days later, when another young man appeared at their door on behalf of Borgin and Burkes. They had not had such a visit in quite some time, but it seemed Mr. Burke had sent the man out in search of the rest of the matching set that went with the cursed necklace. Great-aunt Rosamunde hadn't cursed any of it, but he was probably hoping he could sell the whole set for a higher price because of its one cursed piece.

When Alexis saw him walk into the house, her heart sank, because she knew at once that Tom was gone. The new salesman did have one benefit, however: without Tom there to sense her every move, she could hover just outside the door and listen in on the conversation.

"Mr. Levine. I'm Timothy Covington."

"Nice to meet you. Where's young Riddle, then?"

"Who? The man before me? Oh, he's been gone for months now...almost a year. It must have been a long time since anyone's been out to see you, sir. All I know is that he left unexpectedly...this was quite a lucky break for me, actually..."

Alexis withdrew from the doorway, shaking her head sadly. After the successful sale of Great-aunt Rosamunde's necklace, she had expected Tom to come to be sent back frequently—after all, one sale should inevitably lead to others in the minds of businessmen—and she wasn't sure whether she was more hoping or dreading his visits.

But it turned out that she had worried for nothing. Tom never came to their house again after that day, and then she got a chance to find out how she would have felt when her disappointment outweighed her relief.

What would have made Tom leave so suddenly? He said he had things in mind...places he was going...but where? Tom was not an aimless wanderer; he would never have taken off without a destination. Perhaps Mr. Burke would know—but she was never going to set foot in that alley again, let alone in that shop, if she could help it.

"Alexis, sweetheart, where are you going?" Olivia Levine was just descending the grand staircase dressed to go out. "Are you going into the Alley, dear, because if you are there are a few things I'd like to pick up..."

Alexis groaned mentally. She had really been hoping for a quiet afternoon of shopping to take her mind off things, but her mother would not allow for that.

"Actually," she said on a whim, "I was going to Diagon Alley...I need a new quill."

"Oh, well, all right then, dear, but maybe you'd like to meet me in the Wandlight for a cup after you're done? I'll probably still be in Twillfit and Tatting's, but we could pop in for a bit after I get finished..."

Alexis wanted to just say, _No, I'd rather just go home, thanks,_ but she knew that it would be impolite to turn her mother's invitation down, so she smiled and accepted as graciously as she could.

Flourish and Blotts looked empty now over the summer, but the last time she had visited had been the summer before her seventh year, to buy her school supplies. She rarely ever came to Diagon Alley anymore, now that she was out of school; she spent her time in the fashionable, upper-class districts and had no reason to visit the scholarly ones anymore.

Seventh year had been a lonely year, she remembered as she examined a handsome eagle-feather quill, picking it up and holding it as if she were about to write with it, testing it. She had insisted at the beginning of the year that she didn't care, that she was fine, but all of her friends knew that Tom's departure had affected her at least in some way. Not one of them, though, knew about their final meeting by the lake. She hadn't even confided that to Gabriella, for fear of what they would say or think. She knew they were all already worried she was becoming the sad, clinging ex-girlfriend, and she was absolutely determined that was not going to happen to her.

So she had pulled herself out of it, slowly but surely, until she was laughing and having fun again by graduation.

He would just have to show back up again at her house and...

She stopped, twirling another quill between her fingers as his words came back to her.

_"Maybe you'll still see me in the news here and there...Just study things...Not Hogwarts-approved material."_

He couldn't possibly have meant the crash in America. That would be madness, trying to go out there at this time with security swarming the place.

But he would certainly have been attracted to something like that, she knew, with all the secrets it held, even more so because it was still hidden from the public. Tom always liked to be one-up on everyone else. It seemed he still craved that extra knowledge, whether or not it was approved by the authorities. And this would certainly not have been approved by their former school, she knew, let alone the American magical government. Experimental magic—that was risky business. And exactly the sort of thing that would have caught Tom's attention.

_You're grasping,_ she chided herself. _You're seeing things that definitely aren't there._

Tom travel all the way to America for a chance at seeing something their government would certainly have under the tightest security as they swept it all up as quickly as possible?

No. Definitely not.

* * *

"Where have you been?" her mother called from the sitting room as Alexis hurried up the stairs.

"I told you, Mother," Alexis called wearily, "I was in Diagon Alley, buying a new quill."

"For three hours? Buying a quill? I know you're picky, darling, but really—"

"Father." Alexis stopped at the door to the study. "Where did you find all that stuff about the Americans and the experimental magic?"

Her father looked up from his desk, slightly annoyed at her abrupt interruption. "It was in the _Prophet_. Why?"

"Do you still have the article?"

"No." His tone was dismissive.

"Do you remember anything else it said? Anything else—interesting? Where was it, exactly? Can you remember?"

He looked up at her suspiciously. "What's got you so interested?"

She should have known better. Her father may have been slightly oblivious when it came to his daughter, but he was not a simpleton. "I—was just telling Elena about it this afternoon—I met her coming out of the apothecary today," she invented lamely. "I was wondering."

"Well...you could always go to The Owl Post. They'll have back issues of the _Prophet_ for about a week."

"Alexis?" her mother called as she darted into the sitting room. "Where are you going now?"

Alexis ignored her for the moment, but Olivia's question was answered soon enough as her daughter threw the powder on the fire and disappeared in a whirl back to Elmar Alley.

The Owl Post was a shop that sold newspapers and magazines from all over the world. Their bestseller was the _Prophet_, and, as her father had said, they kept about a week's worth of back issues for people like her who were a little behind on the times. As far as she could tell, only the most current issues of the other papers were available.

She felt more than a little embarrassed asking for the old issue, but the man behind the counter made no comment and merely handed her the paper with an offer for a subscription, which she declined.

She had been afraid of not being able to find the article, but she didn't have to look far. There, on the bottom of the first page, in big black letters, was her first clue.

_DEPARTMENT CRASHES IN AMERICA,_ it read.

_Roswell, New Mexico (AP)—Last Tuesday, a branch of the Unnamed Department of the American Administration of Magic (AAM) suffered an enchantment failure at around 12:03 in the morning and went down near Roswell. The Unnamed Department has long been an object of speculation among the American wizarding public, this particular branch a site for testing any new forms of magic for approval by the AAM. At the time of the crash, it is rumored that no less than 54 new spells, enchantments, and potions were still in the testing stages. Although all staff was evacuated, it is believed that several non-magical people ("Muggles") sighted the crash, and..._

"Miss? Miss, are you all right?"

The paper slid from her hands and landed with a soft hissing noise on the floor. Alexis looked up at the innocent, frightened young face behind the counter.

"Miss? Your paper, miss." He didn't quite seem to know what to do with himself, flailing ineffectually. Alexis was glad this was no emergency. She picked up her paper wordlessly.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked tentatively, as she carefully folded the newspaper back up.

"Yes," she answered, and poor Stuart Gephart thought he'd never heard anything quite like it before. "Yes, thank you, I'm fine."

* * *

_Roswell, New Mexico, USA  
August 1947_

She was going to be in _so_ much trouble.

"You've got to be nuts," she muttered to herself, pulling out the article and going over it for the hundredth time. There was little more there than she had been able to glean after the first dozen or so read-throughs, but she felt really restless just sitting there, and she had no idea where to begin. Surely not here—Tom could never afford this hotel. There was a more modest hotel in the wizarding section of Roswell, but if she knew Tom at all, he'd want to be out in the Muggle section, closer to all he commotion.

And it was a commotion. You'd think the thing was a tourist site, for all the people that had filled this little town. Alexis looked down on all of them, annoyed that they could be so gullible for one, annoyed at being surrounded by Muggles for another. But then, she had chosen to come and suround herself by this riffraff, so she supposed it served her right.

Roswell, New Mexico, she soon found out, was a very long way from London as far as its shopping went. She found a good share of "alien" memorabilia, but there were no centers for shopping. She had truly dropped herself in Nowhere, America.

"Good Lord, don't these people even know how to bathe?" she exclaimed in horror when she saw what she was expected to use for shampoo. She prodded it experimentally with her wand, trying to see if she could improve it at all, but the only thing that happened was that it exploded in her face. Cursing, she stripped off her robes (those had been some of her favorites, too), threw them carelessly in a pile on the floor, and turned on the shower. "I don't know why I'm bothering with this stupid, irresponsible—"

But she had to know. Was this what Tom had left Borgin and Burkes for, what he would see added to the curriculum at Hogwarts? Experimental magic...that was never an easy subject.

She had found one modest Muggle hotel that could be a possibility, so she took the article and asked after him at the desk.

"Room 318," the woman said, eyeing her suspiciously. "But I believe he's out at the moment; you'll have to come back later."

"I just wanted to leave this for him." Alexis waved a small envelope addressed to him. "Can I leave it here?"

"Yes, miss. I'll see that he gets it." Alexis handed over the envelope and headed back to her own hotel to rest for the afternoon. If the evening went as she hoped, she'd need it.

Alexis Levine prided herself on coming herself from a long line of purebloods. And, fortunately for her, her family was not among those whose blood had outlived their wealth. And being a young woman of fashion and society meant that her wardrobe took up a good deal more room in her trunk than anything else did. Thank heavens her father had finally given in, accepted that she wouldn't stop bringing more clothes just because he wouldn't allow her the magical trunk she'd been after him for, and bought it for her.

Being a Levine also meant that appearances were extremely important. So she spent no less than an hour in front of her mirror that afternoon, throwing outfits around and trying on various hats and shoes and jewelry to go with them. If she was going to make a fool of herself tonight, she was going to look stunning doing it.

And that was how she ended up in Margaret's, the nicest restaurant she could find in a town of dust and desert, sipping water (she was even too young in this godforsaken country to have a little drink to calm her nerves) and trying to look as if she were as at home there as the glamorous couple across the room.

She had purposely sat with her back to the door. For one, she knew she'd be craning her neck every few seconds in a very unattractive manner until he got there if she didn't, and for another, she liked the thought of being the mysterious one for a change. _Make him wonder,_ she thought, trying to guess what he would think when the host directed him to her table and he found a woman sitting there. She knew that "a business deal" to him meant a man, and anything to do with this AAM fiasco meant male involvement. What would he say when he found out Alexis Levine, who couldn't even find her way back home, had followed him all the way to Roswell, New Mexico? She couldn't help but feel incredibly smug.

For several long minutes Alexis sat in horrible suspense, her heartbeat increasing every time footsteps approached from behind, but it would only be a waiter passing by, or other guests, and she had begun to wonder if perhaps the message had gotten lost and she was going to look like even more of a fool that she'd anticipated when, without any warning, they appeared beside her.

She hadn't had any time to prepare as she'd expected to, so she was far from presenting the cool, collected face she'd hoped to, but it didn't much seem to matter since Tom looked at least twice as astonished as she felt. But, like all his facial expressions, this one was masked quickly, leaving only his usual calm, public face.

_He should be a politician,_ she thought with grudging admiration for his abilities, even if she disliked them. But it was time to put some of her own abilities to work now. Rising to her feet and putting on an easy, unaffected smile, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Instantly, she felt him stiffen, but she was back in her seat in the next moment, and if she looked at his expression there was nothing there to show that he had reacted at all...except a slight change in his eyes.

Those always gave him away.

"Tom," she smiled. "What a pleasure to see you here."

His gaze bored into her. "What do you think you're doing here, Alexis?"

"I told you." She took a sip of water. Slowly. "I have a business proposition for you concerning the crash."

"Which is?"

"Now don't get in such a hurry," she chided lightly. "We haven't even ordered yet."

For a moment she thought he was going to walk out of the restaurant, but then his mood seemed to shift and he sat down and leaned back in his chair.

"Of course," he murmured, all sincere apologies. "Forgive me; where are my manners?"

"Back in England, I imagine," she bantered back, already starting to forget that they weren't sitting in the Three Broomsticks again, sipping butterbeer while the sky outside swirled snow. "These people really are unbelievable, Tom; I don't know how you've managed to stay out here a month. I assume you've been here since it happened?"

"Now, now." He wagged his finger at her. "You were the one who didn't want to mix business with pleasure."

She could have taken that one a little further, and might have, if it had been Jonathan, who enjoyed their flirtatious teasing, but she had never dared anything like that with Tom, not in all the years she'd known him, and she had no idea how he'd take a comment like that, so she merely raised her glass in silent acknowledgment and took a drink.

She didn't speak after that, and when they had lapsed into an awkward silence she decided he wasn't going to make this easy on her.

"So," she tried, "have you been doing anything here besides looking at the AAM's gigantic mess?"

He shrugged. "Not really. This isn't exactly a thriving metropolis, Muggle or wizarding, in case you haven't noticed."

She had to smile at that one. "So I've noticed."

"Not a place for someone like you, then," he answered with a significant look.

"I'm not here for the city, or lack thereof," Alexis said.

He looked at her for a long moment, and she was considering what to say next when the watier arrived to take their order. They spent the rest of the dinner reminiscing about their school days—some of the better ones, anyway. The darker days were never mentioned, and certainly not the last day when she'd stalked off, expecting never to see him again.

_And look where I am now,_ she thought.

"So," he finally said when they had finally finished, "can we finally end the suspense? What is this wonderful deal I've come out here to hear?"

She dabbed her mouth and set her napkin aside, trying to prepare herself. "Tom, I want you to give this up and come home."

He stared at her for so long she finally dropped her gaze.

"Is this why you brought me here?" he finally asked quietly.

"Tom, this is madness." She lifted her eyes to meet his, her voice becoming earnest, all its former light and easy tones gone. "The AAM is going to have it under lock and key. That place is going to be guarded better than the Department of Mysteries. What do you expect to find, anyway?"

"What do I expect to find?" he repeated slowly. "I don't _expect_ to find anything. I _have_ found quite a few interesting things. None of which would be very interesting to you. Suffice it to say I've seen enough to convince me that this is worth my time—and I'm not going back to England."

Despite Tom's assertion that there would be nothing there to interest her, Alexis couldn't control her curiosity. "What's in there?" she blurted out. "What have these people been working on that the Muggles think are aliens?"

He considered her for a moment and finally said, "Go home, Alexis. This has nothing to do with you."

"I'm not going home. I just traveled to some desert in the middle of the United States to find out what's going on, and I'm not leaving until I do."

"What's going on here is none of your business," he replied coldly.

"Oh, but it's yours?" She found herself more than a little infuritated by his arrogance, but it was part of the reason she had been so attracted to him in the first place. _I should just leave. What do I care if the stupid idiot wants to go and land himself in prison?_

"You don't know anything about this. It doesn't matter to you. So I think on that basis, yes, it's my business."

That stupid, arrogant—"Maybe I don't care about any of this, but I care what happens to you," she blurted out angrily. At the expression on his face, she threw her napkin on the table and started to leave.

_I screwed it all up. You see what you did?_ She should have known better. Despite the terms "boyfriend," "girlfriend," and "going out," she had been more like a footnote in his school life, after schoolwork and the Slug Club and all his little so-called friends...and she was like another one of his trophies, or another accomplishment. Maybe an exceptionally-annoying Head Boy badge, she thought dismally as she walked off. A symbol of status. This is what I've done, this is what I've gotten. But go away now, Alexis; I've got things to do.

She should have gone...just gone and left him to his stupid books and his stupid clubs. Maybe then she wouldn't be in some restaurant in New Mexico, all alone, without her parents' knowledge, chasing after him like the naОve, lovestruck little girl she was.

Her parents would both kill her for this one. But at the moment, she didn't care what they did. She just wanted out.

"Alexis."

"Let go of me!" She pulled her arm away and turned to face him before she realized what had happened.

Of all the times she had ever walked out on their arguments...and there had been plenty...Tom had never once come after her.

Tom never came after anyone.

She felt like someone had frozen time as she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, almost aghast. What was he doing? What was _she_ doing?

"Come sit back down," he finally said, his voice quiet and unreadable.

She hesitated, but there was a hard glint in his eyes that told her she would be unwise to walk out on him now. Reluctantly, she followed him back to the table and took her seat again.

The silence dragged on with her staring at her napkin and plucking nervously at the fringe. Tom had been the one who had taught her that silence could be just as effective as shouting sometimes, but she had never been able to wield it as well as he could. Miserably, she waited for whatever he had to say next.

"You want to know about what's going on out there?" he asked at last. When she didn't respond, he persisted, more sharply, "Well? Do you, or did you come all the way out here for the scenery?"

"I want to know," she answered softly.

He let the silence hang in the air, as if waiting to see if she'd retract her answer. Then, slowly, he began, "You know the Unnamed Department is like the Department of Mysteries. The general public isn't supposed to know what goes on in there. This department actually has several branches, from what I've been able to gather; this is just one of them. It works on experimental magic, testing new spells." He leaned forward, and his voice took on a tone that suddenly aroused a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Alexis," he continued, his voice low and intense, "in that department...in that building...they've been working on a new potion to stop the body's aging process."

"But—" She paused. "Don't they have other things for that now? Rejuvenating Potions? Philosophers' Stones?"

"It's not the same thing," he said impatiently. "Rejuvenating Potions make you younger. The Elixir of Life is a dependant. You have to keep taking it. This potion should allow you to remain the same age you took it after one dose."

"But who would want that?" she asked, lowering her voice. "I mean, it sounds nice in theory, but it's one of those things that might not be so cheery when you actually put it into use. Being the same age? Forever?"

"Not forever. You'd still have the same lifespan. You're not immortal. But if you take it while you're young and healthy, then you're young and healthy for the rest of your life, however long that may be."

Jealousy. That was that squirming feeling in her stomach. It sounded so stupid: She, Alexis Levine, pureblood heiress, was jealous of some potion. But how could she help but be jealous, when she had spent nearly three years at Hogwarts wishing he would use that tone of voice with her? It was obvious how deeply invested he was in this, how much he wanted some of that potion.

If only it had been her.

"And this potion has been making these...aliens?"

"So far all the test subjects have had their features erased...it's given them sort of a gray, featureless skin. There were other side effects, too, but the department is confident they can fix those with time." He hesitated. "They're a little less certain about the skin deformity."

"How do you know all this?" she had to know. "I can't imagine anyone's just let you waltz in there and pick up all your answers just like that."

"Of course not. I spent a long time learning everything I know now." But Tom finally seemed to have told her all he was going to, and he stood up. "If that's all you have for me, I think I should get back to my hotel now." He dropped a few coins on the table for his half of the bill and left her sitting there.

* * *

The next morning, Alexis was up and dressed early with nowhere to go. She stood by her window for a long time, staring at the people passing by below without really seeing them.

When she finally turned around to go out, she noticed a piece of paper slid under her door. It was folded in the standard inter-building memo format, like a smal bird—well, now a flattened small bird—and she opened it up curiously. Who would be sending her notes here?

As soon as she saw the writing she went cold. Of course there was only one person who would be writing to her here in America—but why was he writing to her? After last night, what did he have to say to her?

She unfolded the paper and read the single line it contained.

_Never mix business with pleasure._

In other words, what he'd told her last night was supposed to be between the two of them. More than likely he was regretting he'd told her any of it now; it was a rare time that he'd ever be so open and candid with anyone, even her...particularly her.

She was still staring at the note, reading that one line over and over again, when there was an unexpected knock on the door. Her heart instantly leapt into her throat.

Stuffing the note under her pillow, she took a minute to calm her nerves, one hand on the knob, and with a last breath for courage, she opened the door to reveal—

"Father!" She gasped. "What—what are you—"

Bordon pushed past his daughter without looking at her. "Trixie, pack Miss Levine's things at once. We're leaving now, Alexis," he snapped coldly.

"But—"

"No _buts_. You're coming home now, Alexis. No, not another word, young lady," he added, forestalling any further protests. "You're in enough trouble as it is. I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as I say. Trixie!"

"Yes, Master, the bags are all packed, sir," Trixie squeaked, appearing at once with Alexis's trunk in tow.

"Come on." Bordon grabbed Alexis by the arm and yanked her none too gently down the hallway. "Come on, hurry up, girl." He only stopped at the front desk to check them out, and then they were back out into the sunshine.

"Trixie, you take the trunk on ahead," he commanded, and with a _crack_, both the house-elf and Alexis's trunk were gone. "You and I next," he said, looking at Alexis, "and don't you dare try any funny business."

Alexis didn't dare respond.

They appeared again just outside their own house, and her father grabbed her by her arm again and pulled her inside.

"In here," he commanded, all but throwing her into his study. "Wait there while I get your mother."

He slammed the door and, she noted, clicked the lock.

_A prisoner in my own house,_ she thought bleakly. _I suppose I should have known not to expect anything else._

It wasn't until then that she remembered she had left Tom's note under her pillow at the hotel.

Tentatively, she pushed up her sleeve, gently prodding her forearm, and started to cry silently.

* * *

Author▓s Notes: Concerning the Roswell incident...please allow me to butcher it as I choose. I actually did do some research into it (almost none of which I ended up using here, sadly), but let's just say Roswell itself is not the main focus of the chapter. Any residents of Roswell...I'm sorry, but I am also taking license to butcher your city's geography.

Concerning the Philospher's Stone/Socerer's Stone bit...although I am probably fairly obviously American and have read all the SS editions, as this is set in Britain and that is the "official" British term from the UK editions (even if all the gang say "Sorcerer's Stone" in my books), I thought it would be more appropriate.

I was and still am very iffy on posting this chapter. I wanted to hold it a little longer, but I'm not sure what else I'll do to it without feedback, and I hope posting it will elicit some. Do NOT feel bad to give me some CC (please no flames); I will be reposting chapters as needed—as comments come (for updates hereafter, see my bio).

Now to my one reviewer so far...Wren, thank you so much...you really don't know how much those two reviews brightened my day. I hope this doesn't disappoint. I've worked long and hard on it.

Please read and review constructively!—Susie Q


	4. Chapter 3: Nothing Important Happened

See part one for disclaimer, etc.

**PLEASE READ**--Yes, this IS important.

Since apparently a) either no one looks at my bio for updates or b) no one reads the author's notes (I guess I can't totally fault you for that...I skip too sometimes), I am posting this up here in the hopes that it won't get skipped.

I am moving this story permanently off of FF.N because the site is just starting to scare me. As you can see from my profile, I joined way back in 2000, before it became MegaCorporateNet. Does anyone remember FF.N's flavors? I kid you not—those who weren't there, FF.N once had a feature where you could change the color scheme, and they called it "flavors" (I think there was grape, lime...something else that was this really gaudy light blue). Anyway...I'm getting off the subject.

My point is, I would like just a little more control over my stories (because I'm a control freak). I'm moving them to my personal LJ community, which is called _theqfiles_ (because FF.N doesn't let you type URLs--see what I mean?). I'm sorry that there are no fancy Author Alert/Story Alert features there, but you can check my bio here (I will continue to update that) and my journal itself (username susieq46). for updates.

This chapter 3 is NOT the final version. I'm posting it so FF.N doesn't kick me off (I still want to keep my username, for reading/reviewing purposes), and because I would like some feedback on the rejected version. Currenly I do have a completely (I mean start-from-scratch completely) revamped version in the works, which I hope will be tons better, because this one just left my nerves completely frazzled. And I decided, in the end, that it wasn't good enough.

Having said all this, if you don't want to read it now, I'll completely understand. I hope you'll come back for the new and improved chapter 3!

But if you feel like sticking around, I would still love to hear your thoughts...more on characterization than plot, I suppose, since that's going to change a bit, but anything goes. Sorry there's no Tom! (Yes, I made you wait all that time and don't even give you a chapter with him in it.)

Thanks for your incredible patience!

—Susie Q

P.S. Oh, by the way...anyone up for beta-ing? Seriously, guys, this story NEEDS a beta reader. In other words, _I_ need a beta reader.

* * *

**FLIGHT OF DEATH**  
by Susie Q

**Part I**  
Tom Riddle  
**Chapter 3**  
_Nothing Important Happened Today_

_London, England  
August 1947_

Alexis sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes downcast, as her father paced back and forth in front of her. Her mother stood off to the side.

Time waited.

"You should be grateful I don't disown you here and now," her father hissed. "The entire city will have heard about this soon enough. What in the name of Merlin did you think you were going to do? Do a little sightseeing and come home with a pretty little memoir?" He slammed his hand on the desk. "Didn't you even stop to think how this would affect _you_? Haven't you thought how this would reflect on you, on your reputation—on _our_ reputation?"

Alexis remained silent.

He shook his head. "No, of course you didn't. You still think the entire world is about you and your whims. You're going to have to grow up one of these days, Alexis, and realize that this universe does not revolve around you. What you did was irresponsible and dangerous, not to mention a disgrace to our entire family name—which is your name as well, I might remind you," he added.

"Luckily for you," he continued, his tone not making her feel at all lucky, "I've spoken with Mr. Harper. He's agreed to do us a favor."

"Favor—?"

"He's agreed to marry you," her father supplied. "I would be counting my blessings if I were you, my girl."

Alexis couldn't help it; she gaped at him in a very unseemly fashion. "He—But, Father, aren't I supposed to have some choice in the matter?"

"You don't after that little stunt you just pulled!" he thundered. "You've more than proven to me you aren't responsible enough to make your own decisions wisely, so I've made this one for you. And when Harper comes here tomorrow, I expect you to accept him graciously and sincerely."

"I thought you just said you decided all this for me," she retorted.

"I've spoken to Harper, and he knows how agreeable the idea is to me, but I told him that I couldn't, of course, give him any final answer without speaking to you."

"Oh, so I have a choice after all?" She stood up. "Then my answer's no."

"You do not have a choice!" her father bellowed. "You are going to marry Jonathan Harper and that's final!"

His words echoed in the room and finally faded into silence.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, turning and striding out.

Alexis sank slowly back into her chair, staring at the empty doorway. After a moment, she saw a rustle of cream and black out of the corner of her eye, and remembered her mother was still standing in the room.

"It's not so bad, you know," Olivia said. "You told me yourself you liked Jonathan Harper." When she received no response, she went on in a slightly harder tone, "I'm very disappointed in you, Alexis. I thought we'd already had this discussion. I expected better from you."

Alexis looked up and met her mother's eyes for the first time. Did she know?

"When we found you gone, your father told me about the article," she explained. "We were sure that was where you'd gone, to see that. But he didn't understand why you'd be interested in some government department that'd be all mangled and that you'd probably never get close to. Neither of us could, at first." Her gaze was cold and calculating, very unusual characteristics for Mrs. Levine. "So tell me, Alexis—am I right? Was it him?"

"It was nothing," Alexis replied coldly.

Olivia shut the door and stood in front of it with her arms crossed. Alexis almost marveled at the change a little disaster could bring about, from some foolishly childish companion sort of mummy to a real mother, who was about to give her daughter a real lecture.

"Alexis, this is not a game," she began. Although she didn't shout or bang on things as her husband did, Alexis knew she was just as angry and just as serious. "When I told you I wasn't going to let you throw away all of these opportunities on a fling, I meant it. If you ever expect to be able to hold your head up in any good society again, I think you ought to accept Jonathan's offer. Unless you'd rather have every respectable family laughing at you behind your back for the rest of your life. You'll become some crude joke they tell over luncheon—another Lucy Wendworth, is that what you want? Is it?"

"No." Alexis felt her voice grow thick. "But no one knows about Tom. Why do I have to get married? This is the sort of thing you do to cover up...indiscretions and such. We didn't do anything!" she added hastily, seeing her mother's look.

"It's still going to be a scandal. Alexis Levine runs away from home. _People will talk, Alexis._ There wil be speculation as to why you ran away. Are we bad parents? Were you having some affair? You don't _think_ about these things," she sighed. "I didn't either, I suppose, when I was your age. But there will be speculation that will reflect poorly upon us as a family. Maybe, if you just marry Jonathan now, people will overlook it all." Her features softened ever so slightly. "It was inevitable, anyway, you know, dear. Don't try to pretend. I'm your mother; I know these things."

"I ran away to _Roswell_—"

"Even worse!" Olivia shook her head firmly. "If it ever got out that you ran off to meet—" She stopped and then suddenly, from being angry, she took her daughter's hands and her voice took on a more subdued tone. "Please, Alexis, do this for me, for all of us. _I_ want to be able to go out without people whispering about me behind my back, too, or your father. This is about more than just you."

"That's right, it's about the two of you, I can see that very easily!" Alexis shot back angrily, pulling away and standing up.

Olivia sighed. "It's about all of us," she told her duaghter wearily. "You have to see that. What do you think you're going to do after you refuse him?" she continued more reasonably. "It's not going to be like it was before, Alexis. Men aren't quite so willing to marry women if they might run off on them at any moment."

Alexis stared at the opposite wall. What _had_ she planned on doing? She hadn't—she hadn't planned anything. This entire thing had just been one big disaster. Tom had never listened to her before; why had she expected now to be any different?

She hadn't. She _hadn't_.

She had just wanted to see him again.

"All right," she whispered, wondering why it suddenly felt like such a horrible thing. Just a few days ago, she would have been thrilled to accept a proposal from Jonathan Harper.

Her mother visibly relaxed and patted her hand. "It won't be all that bad, dear," she said reassuringly. "You said yourself you like him."

Alexis felt herself smile, even managing to make it look sincere, even while she felt strangely detached inside. She watched her mother return it, obviously pleased.

Maybe she'd learned more from Tom than she'd thought.

* * *

"He's here." 

Alexis had been awake since before dawn, when the sky was still gray and the first pale fingers of sunlight hadn't even begun to stretch into it. After nearly an hour of lying in bed and finally deciding going back to sleep was a fruitless endeavor, she got up and had Trixie bring her a cup of tea, which she'd been nursing all morning, so that now it was tepid.

She descended the stairs with an air that was somewhat more stately than her usual youthful carelessness, not glancing at her mother or father. Jonathan was standing in the parlor, staring out one of the windows, his expression considerably more solemn than usual.

Behind her, Alexis heard the doors creak shut, and then they were left alone together. It wasn't necessarily the first time she'd been alone with Jonathan, but none of the other times had been this solemn. The mood that morning was nothing like the sparkling, shining night of her graduation, and for the briefest of instances she wondered if her parents were right, and she really had ruined everything.

Nervously, she took a seat in the far corner and waited. Her father and mother's lectures she could both handle, having been subjected to enough of them before, but she was both chagrined and indignant to think that she might have to endure another one from her future husband.

Finally, Jonathan turned around and began with a determined look, "I want you to know, Alexis, that I don't consider this a favor."

She scoffed a little at that.

"No, really—if anything, it's your father who's done me the favor. I hope circumstances won't begin this marriage with any bad blood between us. But I wanted to see you today," he continued as she opened her mouth to reply, "to ask you about those particular...circumstances." He looked at her expectantly. "Your father wasn't very explicit on the subject."

"No, I'm sure he wasn't." She folded her arms. "It's not really something you want to talk about." _Disgraceful,_ he had called it.

"What about you?"

"I don't want to talk about it either."

Jonathan let out a slow breath of air and walked the length of the room. "Alexis, I'll marry you whatever happened in America...but I don't want to start this out with you keeping secrets from me."

"But you can have some from me? Is that what you're saying?" She knew that wasn't precisely what he meant, but she was in a mood to be difficult today.

"Of course not." He looked annoyed. "Just tell me the truth. What in the name of Merlin possessed you to run to America like that?"

She fidgeted with her necklace. "You wouldn't understand," she muttered.

He laughed. "That old line. What makes you so certain? You haven't even told me."

Why wouldn't he understand? He just wouldn't...he'd think she was insane if she ever tried to explain. Chasing after some old school crush like a little girl? Making your parents worry like that? What were you thinking, Alexis? In his mind, it would just be irresponsible and irrational.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

His features softened slightly. "It's not a matter of being sorry, Alexis. It's a matter of trust."

"Do you trust me?"

"I might, if you'd just tell me what happened!" She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this discomposed before. It was actually kind of refreshing, in a way.

"_Might._ Not such a tempting offer."

He made an exasperated noise. "Fine. I will. Is that better?"

"You're just prying," she accused. "All of my business isn't necessarily your business, no matter who you are." She headed for the door, adding over her shoulder with a toss of her hair, "I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're worried about."

She left him staring after her in the parlor.

She went up to her room and sat at her desk to write a letter to her friend Dagmara Hyvell. She had just written the salutation when, without even knocking, her father stormed into her room.

"Alexis Levine! Just what did you say to Jonathan Harper today?"

Unperturbed—she had been waiting for something like this—Alexis set her quill back to her parchment and continued her letter. "I told him I didn't sleep with anyone in New Mexico."

A hand was suddenly slammed on her letter. Alexis looked up at her father, whose eyes were dark and dangerous.

"That's not funny," he said, his voice low. "Harper is doing us the favor, Alexis, and if you had any sense you'd be grateful and not prance about like this because you think we're forcing you. You'd have done it yourself eventually if we hadn't; you were head over heels for that man until you suddenly 'had' to marry him." He crumpled the letter. "I want you to go downstairs and apologize to him right now."

"Is he still here?" She couldn't help but be surprised.

"Yes, he's still here, and he's not going until you act properly."

She thought she'd acted very appropriately, all things considered, but she didn't say that to her father. Instead, she went back downstairs, where her parents both stood by as she made a very proper and overly-formal apology, which he accepted in much the same manner. They both said all the right things at the right times, and when he'd gone Alexis returned to her room and her letter as if nothing had happened.

She never did tell him what happened with Tom.

* * *

_London, England  
One year later_

The engagement may have been some patched-up affair, but there was no time or expense saved on the wedding itself. Olivia wouldn't hear of it. Alexis frankly could have cared less, though it had been nice to see that she was to have a proper wedding after all. On the day of the actual ceremony, Olivia had actually been more flustered than her daughter, flitting around and constantly checking and rechecking her hair, until Alexis just wanted to order all the mirrors taken out.

The bouquet had been lovely, though, she remembered—infinites, special wizarding-only flowers that looked like two rings joined together in the center. They had to be tended very carefully, or the rings would split, and they were traditionally used at weddings. These were white with just the faintest gold accents on the edges, but they came in a variety of other colors.

The ceremony itself had been beautiful, if uneventful, proof that all her mother's hard work had paid off. The reception that followed would normally have been slightly more to her taste, but she could only feel the scrutiny of all the guests—no doubt they'd all heard the whole story, in whatever skewed form of the truth had reached them by that point, and were waiting to see what would happen. So the party, which was normally one of her favorite things, ended up as a game of dancing on eggshells. At least Jonathan was a good enough partner to keep her from breaking too many; she felt that, by the end of the night, most people had basically satisfied their curiosity as to what had happened. They would probably still talk about it for a while, but it would be old news very quickly, and they would move on to other things.

They had gone to Venice for their honeymoon, and, feeling ashamed of the whole scene at her house that day, she'd made a point of apologizing—for real this time. They'd always gotten on very well before that, and he accepted her apology graciously enough. She sensed his fierce curiosity hovering just below the surface of his polite veneer, his eager desire to know what had really happened in those few short hours out in Roswell, but she wasn't going to volunteer any information, and he let the subject drop again with a resigned sort of air.

"Will you ever tell me?" he'd asked that night as she rested with her head against his chest.

She'd sighed. "I don't know," she'd finally answered honestly into the darkness. She wasn't sure she'd ever share that part of herself again. It didn't belong in this world, in her world, in Jonathan Harper's world. These people didn't understand. Jonathan was made for a completely different life than Tom Riddle ever had been, she decided.

"What are you thinking, Alexis?"

His voice had made her start.

"I'm thinking about you," she'd smiled, kissing him lightly. "Now go to sleep so you can dream about me."

Now, a year later, relaxing in the sitting room of their new home, she found she wasn't sorry. She had everything she'd ever wanted: a good home, a family—no, just now, it was hard to regret what she'd done.

"Excuse me, Mixtress. Mrs. Monroe is here to see you." Their house-elf, Moxie, poked her head around the door.

"Oh, of course. Show her in." She fussed with her dress a bit, and a moment later Gabriella appeared in the doorway.

Alexis rose to greet her and ushered her into a chair.

"I wasn't expecting you this early, or I'd have been down here," Alexis apologized. "Do you want something to drink? Tea? Water?"

"Tea's fine." She called Moxie back for their drinks, and then they exchanged some normal, banal pleasantries for a while, when Gabriella mentioned the baby.

"I came to congratulate you. I'm a little late, but it's been—difficult." She looked down.

"Gabriella, I—"

"I heard it was a boy. A Jonathan, Jr.?"

Alexis smiled. "Well, not exactly. Jonathan said he was too young to be a senior citizen already, so we named him William, after his grandfather. We're just calling him Will, for short."

"Congratulations," Gabriella offered again, although there was an odd note in her voice. "Jonathan must be very happy."

"I think he is," Alexis answered. "He always wanted a son."

"Yes, I'm sure." Gabriella sipped her tea, looking distant.

"How's Edward?" Alexis asked after an awkward silence.

Gabriella shrugged. "Fine. Disappointed, obviously—we both are."

"But you're all right," she pointed out, trying to sound supportive. She was used to being the comforted, not the comforter. "You'll try again."

Gabriella was silent for a long time after this, and Alexis was just trying to think of something more to say when Gabriella suddenly broke the silence with, "How did you get him to do it?"

"What?" Alexis was taken aback, not just by the question, but the tone in Gabriella's voice—it was strange and dark, with rough, jagged edges.

"Jonathan," Gabriella clarified, although Alexis was still mystified. "How did you get him to marry you?"

"What are you talking about?"

""Did you tell him you were pregnant?"

Alexis felt the blood rush to her face. "I—of course I didn't! Where did you—where would you—"

"Why else would he agree to marry you after this whole dИbБcle? What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything—"

"You must have told him something," Gabriella insisted, standing up. "Where did you go, Alexis? What were you doing?" She folded her arms. "They say," she went on viciously, "that you went off to elope with Tom Riddle." Alexis felt the blood drain from her face at the words. Gabriella laughed. "Me, I don't believe them." She started for the door and added with a smirk over her shoulder, "Tom was too smart to ever marry you."

* * *

Author's Notes: Thanks again. Hope to see you all at LJ. 

Credit for the chapter title goes to _The X-Files_: Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, FOX Networks. I think the irony is still pretty apparent even if you're not familiar with the episode...I hope?

—Susie Q


End file.
